


a place to call home

by bk119



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Football, Bottom Louis, Florist Harry Styles, Football Player Louis, M/M, Smut, a little bit of, also harry pining for louis but louis doesn't realize that, implied - Freeform, listen this is 8k of louis pining for harry, niall knows everything and liam figured it out too, oh and, these boys are so in love it's sickening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:47:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28782927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bk119/pseuds/bk119
Summary: The thing is, he’s pretty sure he’s found home in a person in his life, someone who’s been essential in everything he’s done since he was seven years old. Through every broken bone, through every breakup, through every failure; through every triumph, personal and professional, and every goal he has scored in his time in Man U, there’s been someone there for it all.That’s his best mate. Harry. A twenty-two year old with the kindest heart known to man, a slow drawl that is entirely too endearing, with the dreams to open up his own flower shop. A quiet and earnest boy with those he doesn’t know, and open and honest and absolutely lovely with those he loves.It all hits him, really, the night of their final game of the Premier League. Again, timing is not his forté. They’re gearing up, ready to hit the field for the second half against Liverpool that determines their ranking in the League, when his brain decides to come online (after seventeen years, apparently), and conveniently supply him with the revelation that oh yeah, you’re kind of in love with your best friend.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 95





	a place to call home

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from ‘a place to call home’ by nü and nvr/mnd
> 
> i’m a football fan but not an avid one; as a result, let some of the stuff in this fic go because nothing is going to be entirely accurate okay thanks 
> 
> and yes, they’re dramatic gay little shits indulge me please
> 
> so much thanks to the twinklinson gc and my louis gc for reading this over for me repeatedly. you know who you are. you mean the world to me. much thanks to kathy for the flowers-as-a-sorry idea, and thank you to bella for cheering me on always. this fic took a village to finish, and you guys always have my back. i love you all.

Home doesn’t need to be a place. It’s cliché, really. It could be a person, it could be a feeling, it could be an intrinsic aspect of life. 

You may not find your home for a long time. You may find it right away. Neither diminishes the importance of that person, that place, that thing. 

These thoughts run through Louis’ mind the night before the season ends, and thus relegation, as he tries to fall asleep. 

The thing is, he’s pretty sure he’s found home in a person in his life, someone who’s been essential in everything he’s done since he was seven years old. Through every broken bone, through every breakup, through every failure; through every triumph, personal and professional, and every goal he has scored in his time in Man U, there’s been someone there for it all. 

That’s his best mate. Harry. A twenty-two year old with the kindest heart known to man, a slow drawl that is entirely too endearing, with the dreams to open up his own flower shop. A quiet and earnest boy with those he doesn’t know, and open and honest and absolutely lovely with those he loves. 

It all hits him, really, the night of their final game of the Premier League. Again, timing is not his forté. They’re gearing up, ready to hit the field for the second half against Liverpool that determines their ranking in the League, when his brain decides to come online (after seventeen years, apparently), and conveniently supply him with the revelation that oh yeah, you’re kind of in love with your best friend.

Louis is sure his face must have a dumbstruck expression on it, because one of his teammates, Bruno Fernandes, pats him on the back, asking, “You good, Lou?”

Louis nods back an affirmative, but he knows his brain is working at hyper-speed. _What the actual fuck—_

He sits on the bench in the middle of the changing room, and gathers his thoughts. Right now, he needs to focus on the game. They’re one point away from being first, with Liverpool having won one more game than them this season, and Louis knows they have to bring their A-Game. 

He shakes his head, as if to clear out the thoughts clogging his brain, and straightens his posture. He can figure out what to do with Harry later ( _oh my fucking god what the fuck_ ). 

They end up going to penalties, having ended up tied 0-0 until then. Louis is the last to kick when he vaguely makes out Harry’s scream from the crowd. He realizes that it’s probably impossible to actually hear him from the sheer amount of people in the stands, but Louis pretends his brain isn’t playing tricks on him. Harry’s there, though, always supporting him in every aspect, just as Louis does the same for him. 

He ends up making the goal. 

They win the game.

Manchester United has won the Premier League season. 

Which, you know, is amazing and every fucking adjective in his vocabulary. The problem is, though, is that now he has to deal with the Harry situation. 

(Fuck.)

He finds Harry backstage, already waiting with a wide smile. It’s exhilarating to reach up and fall into his best mate’s arms, squeezing tight and holding on for a little bit too long. But nobody can blame him, okay? He helped his team win the season, so his brain can shut the fuck up now. 

(He knows that his hair is sticking to his neck, his fringe in his eye as he blinks out sweat and hair, but he’s absolutely exhilarated. His 5’7” self needs to reach up high in order to hug Harry around the neck, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind, and he definitely doesn’t.)

Harry and he end up going to the pub afterwards, with the screams of footie fans following them. His teammates Niall and Liam are coming too, but to Louis, only Harry counts. Okay, they all count, along with Zayn, who was originally Harry’s friend. Zayn’s a close friend as well to Louis now. The five of them had all become close the first week of training, Louis and Harry introducing their respective friends to each other. Now the five of them are inseparable, spending most of their free time together. 

The five of them drink and celebrate until the early morning, finally stumbling home to Louis’ flat at four in the morning, only mildly drunk at that point and mostly still high on the fact their team won. 

They continue the celebrations at home until eventually they all pass out in various places in Louis’ bedroom, in various states of inebriation and clothing in disarray around the room.

Which is why, when waking up the next morning, Harry sleeping next to him in bed, head pillowed Louis’ chest, Louis realizes that maybe the two of them don’t have exactly the typical friendship. Harry had been on the floor when he went to bed, which means he had gotten up during the night and gotten into bed with Louis. 

For as long as Louis can remember, the two of them had been touchy-feely, spending nights in bed together doing nothing but watching telly and munching on whatever food Harry has made at the moment and whatever Louis needs to eat to prepare for practice. 

However, head pounding and feeling slightly nauseous, Louis gulps as he realizes that he’s really and truly in love with his best friend. 

Harry looks angelic sleeping, his lips in a pout and his short, curling hair most likely in disarray. Louis knows exactly what he’d find once Harry wakes up: green eyes with specks of gold, tired and sleepy from waking up with a hangover, and a happy smile gracing his lips as he always has whenever the two of them wake up together. 

(No, Louis chides himself, don’t get your hopes up yet.)

He brushes a curl away from Harry’s eyes, smiling softly as he stares down at his best mate, ignoring the raging hangover that’s making itself known in the back of his skull at the moment. 

First, Louis decides, he’s going to take a shower. Then, he’s going to kick everyone out and he’s going to think about what the fuck he’s gotten himself into. 

He does just that. After quick hugs with the rest of the boys and a lingering one (again) with Harry, he’s finally alone with peace and quiet, although the tranquility doesn’t last very long. 

His phone rings, and it’s his manager, Ole Gunnar Solskjær, letting them know they have the day off, but that tomorrow they’re going to meet up and discuss the game and what’s going to happen next. 

Thank God for small favors, truly. Louis needs to figure some shit out today. 

Now, normally, he’d have spent the day with Harry, the two of them just wasting the day away doing absolutely nothing. But this, he can’t do with Harry. Louis also knows to expect a phone call soon from said boy, probably asking what’s wrong in a slightly worried tone, ready to drop whatever Louis needs if there’s as much as a hint of discontent in Louis’ voice. 

But anyway.

The problem in this exact moment is: he’s in love with his best friend.

That’s rather not great, all things considered. Louis remembers the cheeky little boy that Harry once was, remembers watching in fascination throughout the years as his best friend grew into his lanky frame and wobbly, clumsy, legs and became the confident young man that he is now. Louis remembers when Harry came out to him, shaking in fear of his own best friend not accepting him, prompting Louis to come out in return, ending with the two embracing as they cried together in relief. Remembers watching Harry finish university, coming out with stellar marks and the dream to have his own business. He’s well on his way now, only a year out, and Louis is endlessly proud of how far he’s come. 

He’s always loved Harry, he thinks. Whether it was platonically or not, he’s always harbored a special place in his heart for the curly not-so-curly-anymore boy. 

It’s the little things, though.

It’s the way Harry’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. The way his left dimple is deeper than his right, and sometimes Louis pokes it just to watch said crinkles appear and to watch his green eyes grow even brighter than usual. The way his honking laugh appears only when Louis tells him something funny, a fact that makes the feeling in Louis’ chest grow warmer every time. 

Okay, so Louis should’ve realized he’s in love with Harry a long time ago. To be fair, he plays in a sport that has extremely rampant homophobia, which doesn’t exactly work well with Louis’ agenda in life. It normally doesn’t bother him, but sometimes he’s reminded when someone will make a comment about how flamboyant he’s acting on the field, or whatnot. 

See, Louis has known he’s gay since he was twelve years old and first had a crush on a boy in his class. He has no problem with it, nor does his family or his current friends, thank God. However, football is not known for being the most inclusive sport, although the majority of his teammates are fine with him not being straight. It’s mostly management and the likes who have problems with anybody showing it, what with the idea that all the players have to show their ‘macho’ side or whatnot. 

That being said, they’ve never explicitly told him he can’t be with a man, but it goes unsaid that they’d rather he not advertise it. 

He hasn’t been in a relationship since high school, and he hasn’t been with anyone, in any way, for almost eight months at this point. He’s a little tired of his right hand, at this point, but _now_ that he’s realized how he feels about his best friend, he definitely won’t be pursuing anything anytime soon.

(Maybe he should’ve realized he’s at least _a little bit in love_ with Harry after he got off to the thought of him the first time.)

But honestly, it’s the way he only feels the way he does around Harry, with Harry. Nobody else has ever managed to make him feel safe, loved, and _warm_ other than his own mother and occasionally his younger sisters and brother. It makes him feel at home. 

He doesn’t know where he’d be if he didn’t have the experiences he has with Harry, whether it’s the drunken kiss they had before Harry left for uni, or the way he and Harry went backpacking around Europe the summer after he finished school, right before Louis tried out for the team and got picked. 

There’s nobody quite like Harry in Louis’ life, which is why he realizes that he definitely needs to decide whether or not he’s going to tell him how he feels. 

Louis gets up from where he’d been sitting, and starts pacing the sitting room. He knows everything will be okay, the two of them can get through anything, but he hasn’t even comprehended how big this is, yet. 

His mother, Jay, and Harry’s mother, Anne, have been saying the two of them will end up married since they were young children. Everyone around them has always remarked on how incredibly close the two of them are, often asking if they’re together or not. Niall, when he and Louis first met a year ago, assumed the two of them were together until Louis had to correct him one night at dinner. 

So yes, Louis probably could have seen this coming. 

Before Louis can continue his thought, his phone rings again. This time, it’s Harry calling. 

“Hey Lou, you okay?” Harry starts without any preamble. 

“Yeah H, I’m just a bit tired,” Louis responds, hoping his voice is level enough not to cause alarm. 

Of course, he fails. Harry knows him too well. “You sound a little off. I can come back over and we can cuddle and watch Grease?” Harry asks, and Louis smiles a little to himself.

He never says no to seeing Harry, he shouldn’t have tried to pretend he would. “Yeah that’d be great babe, I’ll see you in ten.”

As soon as he hangs up, Louis realizes something.

He just called Harry babe. 

He has no idea if that’s normal or something new, but it felt right. Harry didn’t object, so maybe he passed it off for Louis being out of it? Louis isn’t sure. 

For the next ten minutes, Louis lounges on his sofa and tries not to overthink. He knows that from here on out, he’s going to spend every moment analyzing Harry’s and his interactions, but hopefully Harry won’t notice too much. 

(That’s a lie. Harry notices everything. Louis just hopes he won’t call him out on it.)

As soon as the door opens, Harry gathers him in his arms, and Louis sags against him, relieved to let his mind shut off for a minute. It’s been nonstop since he woke up, and he’s already tired of it. 

“Okay love, I’ll make you some tea and we’ll watch, okay?” Harry asks after a few minutes, and Louis nods into the others’ shoulder, not quite ready to speak yet. 

(Harry is _very_ comfortable, alright?)

Once tea is made and the two of them are settled on the sofa, Louis finally relaxes. It’s only a few minutes later that he realizes the two of them are, quite literally, on top of each other. He’s in between Harry’s legs, Harry’s arms around him with a hand resting on Louis’ stomach, and Harry’s chin is resting on top of his head as he rests against Harry’s chest. It’s a very comfortable position, and Louis also realizes that it’s quite normal for the two of them. He can sync his breathing to Harry’s, and as the two of them watch the movie, Louis lets himself let go of the tension that his body was holding onto. He’s not going to ruin this with whatever the fuck’s going on his brain at the moment. 

They end up laying down during the movie, maintaining their previous positions except for the fact that Louis is now the little spoon. Eventually, Louis’ mind starts wandering. and Harry must feel him tense up again because the younger boy presses a kiss to his shoulder. 

(Okay so, that’s not platonic behavior, is it?)

He turns around in Harry’s hold to face the other boy, and he notices that Harry’s eyes flick downwards for a second before settling back to eye contact. 

(That was probably his brain imagining it, right?)

(He has a lot of questions, alright?)

Harry squeezes him tighter, closer to him, smiling. Louis can hear Olivia and John singing in the background as he stares into the eyes of the man he loves, and he sighs. 

“You know, what Sandy and Danny have, that’s love.” Louis comments before he stops to think.

Harry lets out a snort. “Yeah, we’ve had this discussion a multitude of times before.”

“Ooo, multitude, big boy words here, Mr. I Went to University.” Louis teases, and Harry giggles. Louis starts running his fingers through the baby hairs at the back of Harry’s neck, and the two of them comfortably watch each other for the next several moments before Harry nudges him. 

“Come on, it’s your favorite part, you know you’d kill me if you missed it.”

Louis coos. “Aww, a man after me own heart.” He stops suddenly, realizing what he said, but if Harry noticed anything out of the ordinary, he doesn’t show it. 

The two of them stay on the sofa even after the movie ends, laying in silence before eventually Harry sits them up. 

“So, talk to me. What’s on your mind?” 

Louis had known that his best friend wouldn’t take avoidance for an answer, it was only a matter of time, so he resigns himself to spending the next ten minutes desperately trying to cover his gay ass so he doesn’t expose himself before he’s ready. 

“I’m just tired, a bit hungover, and a bit famished, to be honest, love,” Louis says, the endearment slipping out without his permission. He really needs to tone this down, holy shit. Harry’s eyes crinkle and Louis’ stomach flips, the warm feeling filling his body once again. 

Harry grins, the smile reaching his eyes so that they sparkle in the mid afternoon sunlight rare to Britain. “I’ll make you a full fry up, you’ll feel much better.” he announces, pulling Louis up with him. Before he heads to the kitchen, Harry presses a kiss to the top of Louis’ head, and Louis can feel his ears turn bright red and himself flush. 

For the next hour, Louis watches Harry navigate expertly around his second favorite place in the world, after his flower shop. 

So, the thing is, Louis loves watching Harry in the kitchen. Anything to do with baking, cooking, or the like, Harry excels at, and Louis adores watching the crinkly smile come onto his best friend’s face when he’s doing something he enjoys. 

As they settle into their respective spots by the table, munching on the full fry up, which is, of course, perfect, they chat amicably about the next few days and what they’re currently watching on their own. 

Later, the two of them spend the rest of the day cuddling on the sofa as Louis decides whether or not to say anything. However, he’s content in Harry’s arms, and he doesn’t want to give that up for anything. He’ll say something tomorrow. 

♡♡♡

So, he doesn’t say anything for a while. He has a meeting with his team, Ole ready to plan the next season already. They’re set to have the official award ceremony next week, so Louis lets himself zone out once he understands the basics of who’s going to open as defender in a few weeks at practice. 

Louis realizes he’s thinking primarily about Harry the entire time. He’s musing on the last few times they’ve hung out, with how many times he’s found himself staring at Harry’s lips and also found himself being very _loud_ , the way he is whenever he tries to pick someone up at a pub or flirts with someone whose attention he craves. Louis knows he gets quite expressive when it comes to these situations, but replaying his actions over the last few days suddenly gives him an insight into just _how_ expressive he’s been. 

That being said, Harry’s also been touching him more often than usual. Or, rather, it’s the first time Louis is noticing how much the two of them are on top of each other. They’ve been much more tactile, much more cuddly, and the shoulder kisses and the terms of endearment have been multiplying since Louis first noticed Harry do that that night on the sofa. 

(Maybe his crush isn’t as futile as he thought it was?)

Louis is brought out of his reverie by Niall nudging him with a whispered, “Lou, pay attention,” because it’s come to the time when they discuss how the award ceremony is going to go. 

The Norwegian accent is heavy when Ole informs them of the procedures. Liverpool and Man U are going to shake hands, they’re going to be awarded the trophy, and then they’re going to go to the afterparty and all get really drunk. Okay, so he doesn’t say _exactly_ that, but that’s what Louis gets out of it. 

(It’s not that Louis doesn’t pay attention at work. It’s just that it’s the same procedure every year, and players know how it goes, even those who haven’t won or aren’t participating in the event.)

The team’s sent on their way soon after, and Niall invites him over for a pint and some takeout, now that they can relax for a few weeks before practice starts up again. Louis readily agrees with promises to head over once he goes home and changes into something more comfortable. The two of them live in Altrincham, along with Liam. Zayn and Harry live in Stretford, about fifteen minutes away. 

All the way home, Louis can’t stop thinking about Harry. The way he smells, the way he smiles, the way he’s like a giant teddy bear in a 5’11” man’s body. He’s thinking about his best friend on his way to Niall’s, as well. It’s like now that Louis has let the floodgates open in his brain, he can’t shut it off. 

Which is probably why he ends up slipping to Niall. The brunette Irishman is his best mate after Harry, after all. It was bound to happen. 

They’re chilling in front of the television eating takeout when Louis opens his mouth and accidentally lets everything out. 

“For fuck’s sake, I’m in love with Harry.”

Niall smirks, “So you’ve finally figured it out?”

Louis stares, open-mouthed, at his friend for a few seconds. “Fuck, you knew?”

Niall claps him on the back, looking like he’s absolutely enjoying this. His blue eyes look absolutely delighted. Louis can tell he’s trying to hold laughter in as he says, “Mate, we’ve all known for years. The two of you aren’t exactly subtle.”

Louis can feel his ears burning. “Shut the fuck up, why didn’t anyone fucking clue me in?”

Niall shrugs. “To be fully honest, this is something you have to come to terms with yourself. You’d just have denied it constantly until you finally realized it.” He stops for a minute. “Wait, holy shit, I gotta text Liam!”

Louis is sure he’s showing visible confusion. “The fuck?” He knows he’s cursed too many times in the last few minutes alone, but he’s probably actually in shock. Someone should check on him. He knows Niall won’t, he’s too busy fucking _laughing at him_. 

His internal monologue is broken with Liam’s voice over the tinny speakers. “He figured it out?” Liam sounds delighted. 

Louis vows to one day kill his friends. 

“He finally did! Fucking finally! Come over, you have to see his face.” Niall instructs, and Liam ends the call with the promise to be over in a few minutes. 

Once his phone is safely put away again, Niall stares at Louis expectantly. “So, what are you going to do about this?”

Louis stares at him. “Uhm… nothing.”

“No! You have to tell him! We’ve been waiting for _years_.”

Louis shrugs. “I’m still trying to grapple with the fact I’m in love with me best mate.”

“Lou, you’re going to see. He loves you back.” Niall says with an air of confidence Louis is not sure he should possess about this topic.

Right as he’s going to respond, Louis hears a knock at the door. It’s most likely Liam, seeing as how Niall and he live on the same street. 

Niall goes to open the door, and in tumbles Liam, as predicted. 

“You figured it out!” Liam looks like an overexcited puppy, his brown curly hair flopping into his eyes, and Louis tells him so. Liam simply shrugs him off. 

“Lou! You figured it out! Now you guys can _finally get it together_!” 

Niall snorts. “That’s what I told him, and he’s saying he can’t even process it yet.”

Liam sits down next to him on the sofa. “Lou, you know I’d never tell you to do something I’m not sure about. But Harry feels the same way, trust me.”

Louis can feel his resolve crumbling, simply because two of his favorite people are telling him what his brain and heart have been wanting to hear ever since he figured out how he feels. “Li, I know you mean well, but I think I need to wait a little.”

Liam agrees, reluctantly. “Okay, you know yourself the best. But please do it, if not for you, for _our_ sakes.” 

Louis laughs, anxiety lessening. “Just for you two.” He agrees, and that’s that. 

The three of them spend the rest of the night watching shit telly, downing mountains of takeout, and drinking beer that Niall tracked down from the depths of his fridge. 

Louis tries desperately not to think about Harry. Of course, he’s all he thinks about, as a result. 

It’s late at night when he speaks up again about the topic, Liam fast asleep on the sofa, Niall drinking his final beer. 

“Ni… do you think he loves me back?” Louis hates how vulnerable he feels and sounds, but his guard is down and he’s pleasantly tipsy. 

“Lou, you know I only want the best for you. I think he does. You gotta trust us.”

“Okay.” He responds. “I’ll talk to him soon.” 

Niall cheers silently, and stumbles over to give him a side hug. 

“We got your back, mate.” 

Louis smiles, and not for the first time, he’s very thankful for his teammates being such good and close friends of his. He doesn’t know where he’d be without them.

♡♡♡

A few days pass where Louis goes home to see his mum, stepdad, sisters, and brother, and his mum figures it out within a few minutes of seeing him. 

(She’s so excited she can barely keep still, but she vows not to tell Anne, Harry’s mum, before Louis can talk to Harry.)

(He’s still worried, but he trusts his mom. However, if she and Niall can read him like a book, how come Harry hasn’t said anything?)

That Sunday, he goes to visit Harry at work. Every Sunday, Harry has a special for sunflowers. When Louis had asked about it, Harry had turned bright red and stuttered something about it being his favorite flower. Louis figured that if Harry wanted to, he’d tell him, and that was that. 

As he steps into the shop, he’s hit by the smell of fresh flowers, and pastel colors all around. Harry’s manning the front, probably charming the customer with his exuberant smile who’s paying at the register. 

His green eyes light up when he sees Louis. He finishes with the customer, then rambles over to where Louis is standing, admiring the batch of lilies that are on display. 

“Hey Lou!” The younger boy exclaims, and Louis can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.”

“Hey babe,” Again, a fucking endearment. “I just wanted to see you and check in on the specials.” 

(A lame excuse. As if Harry hadn’t detailed the exact specials that were going to happen that weekend as they were texting while Louis went home to Doncaster.)

Harry’s eyes twinkle knowingly, and Louis is aware that Harry has just called him out on his bullshit, but is too nice to say anything about it. 

“Okay! Here we have the lilies and the daffodils, as you see, which I’ve organized based on their proportion and scale.” Harry guides Louis over to the next stand. “Here I have the roses and the Chocolate cosmos. They’re organized based on their balance and unity.” 

Louis nods along as if he’s understanding anything Harry’s saying as they move through every display in the front of the shop. He can’t help but admire the shape of Harry’s nose, his jawline, and the way his entire face is lit up with excitement as he talks about his favorite subject: flowers. 

Louis doesn’t realize Harry’s asked him a question before he sees Harry’s eyebrows raise up and an expectant look on his face. “Sorry H, I was thinking about something. What’d you ask?”

“It’s okay, Lou. I was going to ask if you wanted to catch lunch together in a few minutes on my break.”

Louis licks his lips, thinking. He doesn’t have anything to do - wait a second. 

Did Harry’s eyes just glance down at his lips?

Holy shit.

Realizing he’s taking too long to answer, he hurries to respond. “Of course love, I know just the place.”

Harry’s eyes sparkle, a wide grin on his face at his response. “Okay! Let me get my stuff.” He brushes by Louis and squeezes his hand before he slips into the back of the store. 

Okay now, what the fuck was that?

However, before Louis can think too much about it, Harry’s back, and they’re walking down the street to their favorite coffee shop. 

The two of them chat about Louis’ time back home as they make their way to the shop, Harry asking after Jay and the girls and Ernest inquisitively, and Louis can’t help but notice the way Harry always asks the right questions and is diligent with focusing and reacting appropriately when needed. 

(It’s something he admires a lot about the younger boy, and definitely something that drew him to Harry in the first place.)

As they settle into a booth, Louis asks after Anne in turn, and Gemma and Robin, and Harry responds in the way he always does, showing how much he loves his family. 

“They’re really good, yeah, Gemma’s started her internship at the magazine and Robin is home from work. Mum’s been busy too, they’ve all been busy. Maybe next month you can come up and visit, I know they’ve been dying to see you. You haven’t been there since Christmas!”

(The two of them often spend time together at Christmas, switching between the two families, even though Holmes Chapel is about two hours away from Doncaster by car, and six hours by train.)

Once Louis acquiesce and promises to make a trip up if Harry comes with him to Doncaster sometime soon as well, the topic moves on to the award ceremony that is happening the next day. Louis admits that he’s a bit nervous about it, especially because his mum can’t make the trip down because of work and he thought she was going to be there. 

“Listen, love, she’s there in spirit. I’m sure she’ll be spam texting you with tons of emojis as it’s happening and afterwards. Besides, I’ll be there, along with Zayn and Niall and Liam. Everything’s going to be okay.” Harry placates him, and Louis smiles gratefully at his best mate. 

“Realistically, I know everything will be okay. It’s just me first time with the team with this happening.”

Harry reaches over and grabs one of Louis’ hands in his own, and Louis’ heart quickens as he realizes just how much _bigger_ Harry’s hand is than his. 

(Holy fuck, imagine that large hand on a different part of his body -)

Louis cuts that train of thought right off and tries to bring himself back to the present. 

“- going to be okay. I got you.” Harry’s saying, and he’s staring wide eyed and honest at Louis. 

(This is his favorite Harry. Harry is honest and helpful with everyone, but he’s mostly shy. Unless he knows you well, he’s going to be quiet and need to be invited into the conversation, which is why Louis is there. 

They balance each other out quite well.)

Louis sighs, but he knows it’s mostly to be dramatic. “Thanks, H.” 

Harry smiles soppily, and Louis suddenly realizes they’re still holding hands. 

He doesn’t want to let go. 

They end up in companionable silence, and Louis just admires Harry’s jawline for a minute. Sue him, but it’s really fucking nice. 

(He really has something for Harry’s jawline.)

Harry squeezes his hand, and Louis doesn’t even want to know what expression is on his face, because it’s probably outing him the same way he outed himself when he was 16. 

(They don’t stop holding hands until their food comes, and even then, Harry’s feet keep brushing his. Louis can’t catch his breath every time it happens, and eventually he’s sure he’s going into cardiac arrest with the amount of times his body gets shocked by the smallest bit of contact. He feels like he can’t breathe. 

The thing is, Louis hasn’t been in love like this before. He’s aware of every miniscule thing, from the change in Harry’s facial expressions, to the tiniest point of contact the two of them are keeping up throughout the entire lunch. 

If this is how the rest of his life is going to go, Louis isn’t sure he’s going to survive. He probably has to tell him, soon, before he fucking _dies_ from too much Harry.)

♡♡♡

Throughout the entire award ceremony, Louis is aware of Harry in the crowds. The first thing he did when he arrived on the field was search for the younger boy, and once Louis finds him, the smile will not wipe off his face. 

(Niall slaps him on the shoulder as discreetly as he can, but for the life of him he can’t stop smiling. He knows he looks silly, but Harry being so supportive, fully decked out in Man U gear from top to bottom, cheeks painted red and white, fills him with so much _love_ and giddiness that he cannot hide it.)

His teammates decide to have him lift up the trophy on their shoulders, with some joking it’s because of his height, to which he slugs them in the shoulder, mostly in jest. Once he’s put down after much cheering and screaming, he spies Harry running onto the field, screaming maniacally even though they both knew this day was happening, and the two of them collide on the field. Louis can hear people laughing behind him but all he can focus on is Harry whispering how proud he is of him into his ear and the kiss that lands on his shoulder, and his heart is in his throat and he can’t breathe and the two of them are only a few inches apart, staring at each other in limbo. Suddenly, Niall and Liam and Zayn jump on them and the five of them are now a pile on the field, laughing and crying. 

(Louis doesn’t stop thinking about the way they were a breath apart, just staring, and the way he couldn’t stop glancing down at Harry’s lips the same way Harry couldn’t stop staring at his own.

He’s starting to realize what that means.)

♡♡♡

After the ceremony, Louis forgoes the celebrations at the pub because it’s only three in the afternoon, and heads back to the shop with Harry with his favorite football. 

“So, what are you going to do over the next few weeks?” Harry asks as he picks the carnations arrangement up and fixes it to his liking. 

Louis sits down behind the counter and sets his ball down next to him. “Probably annoy you until you make me an honorary employee at this store,” He teases, and Harry’s dimple appears. 

“I have no problem with that,” Harry responds, and the two of them smile at each other sappily until Harry clears his throat. 

“I mean it, though. Do you want to go somewhere, do something?” Harry puts the carnations down and picks up a lavender and hyacinth one. “We could go down to London one day with the boys, go check out some shops and watch a game with those tickets you can get us.” 

Louis can’t help but laugh at the blatant hints that Harry’s dropping. “I’m glad you’re such an avid football fan, but are you using me for tickets for Arsenal?”

Harry giggles, his dimple deepening, and shrugs. “You caught me. I’m only here for the perks of having a best mate in an English team.”

Louis stands up and moves to stand next to Harry, purposefully brushing a hand next to the others’. “I’m up for it, let’s ask the boys later and we can make plans.” 

Harry sends a dazzling grin his way, and Louis knows he’s powerless to anything the man suggests just with that smile alone. Harry grabs the hand that Louis purposefully brushed him with, and squeezes it quickly. 

Louis gulps, internally. Fuck, he’d do anything for this man.

The two of them continue chatting as Harry works his way around the shop, fixing arrangements here and there. Louis eventually gets bored of sitting down, as usual, so he kicks the football around lightly, continuing to talk about current events and what next season is going to like, what Harry wants to do for the next special, and the like. 

Harry’s dimple keeps making its return, distracting Louis every time, to the point where he accidentally kicks his football into one of the arrangements, specifically the tulip arrangement. 

There’s silence for a few moments before Louis starts apologizing profusely. Harry shakes it off, insisting that it’s alright. 

“I’m so fucking sorry holy shit, H, I’m so sorry!” Louis repeats over and over again, knowing that each of these arrangements had been made by Harry himself.

Harry doesn’t seem too worried, though. “It’s okay, Lou, it happens, we’ll make it work, don’t you worry.” 

Louis feels that Harry is just being too kind to him, so he responds with, “Listen, I’ll get you something to make up for it, I’m really so sorry,” and he refuses to listen to the others’ protests. 

They clean up, and Louis continues apologizing and Harry keeps insisting it’s okay the rest of their time together, but Louis spends most of the afternoon racking his brain, trying to figure out what could possibly make up for this. 

Eventually, it dawns on him, after he’s left Harry’s company and is heading back to his flat: he’ll send Harry a bouquet. Harry loves bouquets, is enthusiastic about them, and maybe, just maybe, Louis can hint at something there. 

Because, to be frank, the last week has been anxiety inducing.

Although Louis knows the two of them are not as platonic as he once thought they were, judging from the touching, the kissing, the endearments, he doesn’t know exactly _where_ they stand. 

He’s let himself hope more times than not in the past few days, but he almost always squashes down those moments of fleeting encouragement in case he ever ends up disappointed.

The first thing he does when he arrives back at his flat is search for the best flower shop in Manchester. He can’t ask Harry, that’d be too obvious, but he knows there’s a few good ones in the city that he could find. 

He finds a place called Northern Flower, right by the National Football Museum. It’s started raining outside, and seeing as how he’s in Altrincham, a good thirty minutes away from the city center, he just takes the car. 

When he arrives at the shop, parallel parking on the road and hurrying out, getting drenched in the meantime. It’s quaint, nestled between two larger, more popular shops, flowers and different arrangements spilling outside, ‘Northern Flower' emblazoned in cursive on a faint green sign. 

He’s thankful that he doesn’t get recognized in his cap and sunglasses (on a rainy day, nonetheless). Before he can even ask for help, a woman comes up to him and is asking what he’s looking for. 

He offers his predicament as much as he can, ending it with “and I kind of want to tell him how I feel, yeah”. The woman smiles, her eyes twinkling, and she says she has just the thing for him. She hurries to the back of the shop, and leaves him there to wander around and look at the different arrangements in the shop. 

He waits a few minutes, and she comes back out holding one of the most beautiful flower [arrangements](https://northernflower.com/collections/flowers) he’s ever seen. 

“It’s a combination of red roses known as “Naomi”, protea, safari sunset, alstroemeria and asparagus fern foliage. It’s known as the _Modern Lover_ and it’s quite popular for those who want to express their love for someone.” She explains, and Louis _knows_ this is the perfect one for Harry. 

It’s beautiful, it really is. He’s not an expert on flowers, not whatsoever, but he can see how the roses complement the other flowers, of which he’s never heard of. 

Louis buys it, right away, and gives them Harry’s address to send to, along with a special note that he knows Harry will get, right away. 

And that’s it. 

It’s happening. 

Harry’s going to find out how he feels, once and for all. 

♡♡♡

The flowers must take a few days to arrive, because Harry’s text with a “we need to talk” shows up on Louis’ phone in the middle of his footie practice with Liam and Niall later that week. They’d been texting like normal for a few days, so Louis knows that he received them with that text. 

He sends back a quick “okay, see you soon love” to Harry, and bids the boys goodbye, with choruses of “good luck!” echoing him as he makes his way out the drive. 

It’s a quick fifteen minute drive to Harry’s, so he gets there in no time, but he sits in his car to calm himself down for a few moments. 

This is most likely it. 

There’s really no other way to interpret his gift to Harry, especially seeing as Harry has been studying flowers for over two years at this point, and is very well versed in them. 

All he can do is hope for the best. 

As Louis gets into the elevator, Harry having had rung him into the building right away, he can feel his heart jackknifing in his chest, about ready to come out and make itself known to the public. This is beyond a doubt the scariest thing he’s had to do, even more so than trying out for the team. 

He steadies himself, raising his hand to ring the doorbell, when the door swings open and it’s Harry, eyes bright and shining, his cheeks ruddy. His hair is windswept, and Louis wonders what he was doing that caused him to look like this. 

Before he can wonder anymore, Harry drags him into a tight hug, bending to press his nose into Louis’ neck, and Louis relaxes. 

No matter what, the two of them would be okay. 

They separate, and Harry grins, and Louis can’t help but respond in kind. 

“You said you wanted to talk?” Louis manages, and Harry nods. 

“Yeah, yeah, come here,” he guides them to the sofa, and Louis tries to put some space between them, but Harry plops down and drags Louis’ feet on top of his thighs. 

“So… you sent me flowers.” Harry says, seriously, and Louis realizes that there’s not going to be any beating about the bush. 

Louis nods. “I did.” 

Harry starts tracing circles on his ankles, eventually fitting his hands around the curve of them. “Do you know what the flowers mean?”

Louis nods, again. “Yeah, uhm… the lady recommended them to me at the shop.”

Harry’s face lights up once again. He opens his mouth to say something, but Louis interrupts him.

“I’m just going to be honest. I’m in love with you.” 

Harry closes his mouth, shocked into silence. Louis doesn’t know why, seeing as how the flowers _literally_ spelled out that he loved him. 

“I only recently figured it out, and I’ve been trying to figure out what to do, and this seemed like the perfect idea.” He gulps. “And to be honest, I’m really hoping you feel the same way, but no matter what, I can’t lose you.”

Harry squeezes one of Louis’ legs. “I figured that out when the flowers said it was an arrangement called True Romance. I just never thought I’d hear you say it out loud.”

Louis digs his heels into Harry’s thighs, and sits up. They need to have this conversation sitting up. “Why?”

Harry smiles, quietly and shyly, in a way they haven’t been around each other since they first met. 

“I’m kind of in love with you, too.” Harry admits, and Louis’ heart drops in his chest. 

Harry’s continuing before Louis can get his wits together. “I’ve been in love with you since we were teenagers, and I always hoped that you would eventually realize you feel the same.”

Louis is in shock. He has to be. Even in his wildest dreams, he barely let himself hope for Harry to feel the same, and yet here we are. 

He must be silent for a while, because Harry clears his throat and nudges him. “You still with me, Lou?”

Louis snaps back in reality. “So… all those times where we cuddled, where we nearly kissed… you wanted it too?”

Harry smiles Louis’ favorite smile, the one with the dimples. “Yes.” 

They stare at each other for a few moments, before Louis is leaning in, cupping Harry’s jaw in his hand. He stops a few breaths short of Harry’s lips, and just stays the way he is. Settling into Harry’s lap, he noses at Harry’s cheek, and he can feel Harry inhale shakily. 

He’s _so close_ to what he wants, just a few more centimeters, and finally, their lips touch. Louis lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and gently takes Harry’s bottom lip between his, sucking and laving over it with his tongue. Harry lets out a throaty sound in the back of his throat, and before Louis knows it, he’s been turned over and Harry’s in _his_ lap. Harry slots their lips together in a wet, languid kiss that takes Louis’ breath away, and he grips the younger boy tighter to him, his hips pushing up without his permission, but he _can’t help it_ , okay?

The two of them sit there, breathing through their noses and kissing desperately and continuously to the point where Louis starts losing track of time. The wet pressure of Harry’s mouth moving over his causes butterflies in Louis’ chest, and when they finally part to catch their breaths, Louis just moves to Harry’s neck, pressing kisses and sucking occasionally, and a part of Louis is prideful because he knows that Harry’s going to be wearing his bruises for a few days. 

What he doesn’t expect is Harry’s hips shifting on top of his, pressing _just right_ and causing Louis’ breath to stutter and his mouth to fall open when Harry continues to do so once he sees the reaction he gets out of Louis. 

Harry takes the opportunity to grip Louis’ ass through his sweatpants, and Louis has never been happier to have been wearing this casual fashion choice than in this moment. 

Louis rolls his hips up, and now it’s Harry’s breath hitching, and finally Louis gasps into the space between their lips, “Do you want to?”

Harry gasps back, “Yes, please, please,” and Louis sneaks his hand into Harry’s pants, gripping him firmly, stroking the head and pressing into the underside where it’s most sensitive, thankful for the lack of a barrier and the fact Harry likes to walk around naked, or the closest to naked he can be. 

The friction has to be heavenly, because Harry’s head falls backwards, and he lets out a throaty moan to which Louis feels himself thickening in his sweatpants, even more than before. 

Finally, Louis can’t take it anymore. He begs, “Touch me, please,” and Harry in turn gasps, spits into his free hand, and slips a hand into Louis’ pants. 

(It’s absolutely wonderful, it is. The way the two of them are in tune with each other even with this, just like in every other aspect of their lives. Louis follows Harry, and will follow him, through everything, and as the two of them stumble to the bedroom, clothes being shed along the way, Louis knows that he’s in safe hands. Without question, Harry preps him quickly and efficiently, finding his spot almost right away, and Louis nearly blacks out at the feeling of Harry rubbing repeatedly around it. Eventually, Harry slides in, and the two of them are, of course, in sync with this too. Eventually, the two of them fall together, and it’s the most blissful moment in Louis’ life up to date. Judging from Harry’s exhausted but giddy smile on his lips, Harry agrees with the sentiment.)

(Later, when the two of them find themselves arguing over the remote, Louis will drag his nails over Harry’s side, moving faster and faster before Harry is convulsing on the sofa, laughing hysterically. In that moment, Louis will be thankful that he finally found someone he can be himself around, silly, serious, and everything in between. The two of them are _it_ for each other, after all.

They’ll get through everything, together. Any homophobia in footie, the screaming that their friends will undoubtedly do once they find out, anything at all, they’ll talk, they’ll work through it, and they’ll love each other through it all.

After all, home doesn’t have to be a place. It could be a feeling.

It can be a person.

For Louis, it’s Harry.)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! find me on [tumblr](https://sunflouwermoon.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/hscanyonm)
> 
> reblog the [tumblr post](https://sunflouwermoon.tumblr.com/post/640434236282863616/a-place-to-call-home)!


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